Would I Lie to You
by Aussiegirl41
Summary: Bill tells Laura some sweet little lies. (Yes, I've still more older fics to post!)


**This wasn't written for any particular challenge. It was just a drabble idea that I had that got out of hand, and I decided not to cut.**

Even though Laura's eyes were closed when footsteps approached her sickbay cot, she knew they belonged to Bill.

She smiled when she felt his lips touch hers, tentatively at first, and then with more confidence and passion.

She let out a quiet snort when he eventually drew back and settled into the chair beside her.

"What?" he asked.

"I could have been asleep," she mock berated.

"You were too quiet. You snore, Roslin."

"I do not!"

"How do you know?" he countered. "Have you been lying around in bed all day?"

She coughed through a small chortle. "I've spent most of the day talking to Cottle," she admitted breezily.

"Should I be jealous?"

She grimaced and pointed to the bedside locker. "Open the top drawer," she ordered softly.

"_Coping with the loss of a spouse_," he read out after he'd retrieved the documentation Cottle had given her earlier. "What do I want this for?"

"Bill..."

Ignoring the way she growled out his name, he pushed his glasses onto his nose more comfortably and leafed through the booklet, his finger skimming along some of the headings.

_"__Time is a great healer," _he shared. _"__Keeping busy with other family and friends." _

She took a deep breath when he grunted before and after that last particular quote.

"There's some good advice in it, Bill," she said calmly. "I like the one about keeping a diary. Writing down how you're feeling if you're finding it difficult to talk to anyone."

She ignored him when he made a grunting noise again

"You don't even have to worry about your feelings. Just writing down what you've done during the day - however mundane or routine - can help. I thought that would be a good one for you, seeing writing up your log every night is already a type of therapy."

He tossed the booklet back into the drawer and shut it firmly. "I won't need it."

Laura leaned back on the pillow and closed her eyes again. She didn't want to have this same argument with him. It felt like they just kept talking in circles when it came to this subject. She was exhausted.

"I won't need it because it will be a relief."

The nerve in her cheek twitched. A relief?

"For starters," he continued, "there's that snoring I mentioned earlier. At long last, I'll be able to get a full night's sleep without you snuffling beside me."

She made a snuffling sound now after hearing that statement.

"I'll have all that closet space you stole back."

She squeezed her lips together.

"I won't have to put up with your constant cleaning up. I'll be able to happily scatter my books around the room again. That weird mixture of alphabetical order and Dewey Decimal system you established can be canned."

"And you can read any book you like, don't forget," she reminded him. "You won't need to check whether I've read it or not first."

"Yes," he sighed dramatically. "That's a relief."

She felt the bed dip as he stretched out next to her in the small cot.

"Don't forget the drain," she breathed into his neck. "You won't have to unblock it again."

"True. Although, I readily admit that hasn't been an issue of late," he rumbled. She felt his familiar touch stroke across her bald scalp.

"So, you see," he whispered. "I don't need that literature. Things will go back to normal in my life. I'll have some peace."

She buried her face into his chest, tears of joy and sorrow blending to dampen his tunic.

She eventually calmed herself enough to speak. "Cottle and I are trying to help," she hiccupped.

"It's too soon," he murmured.

What was too soon? Her death? His accepting it?

He drew back and tilted her face up so he could kiss her again. She lost herself in him-his lips suckling, his tongue tasting. His hands crept inside the gap at the back of her hospital gown, sweeping a path along her skin until her question became lost as well.

XXXXXX

When on duty, Sherman checked on the President's vitals personally.

Tonight, she lay quietly with her eyes closed as he went through his routine.

"You get anywhere with that stubborn old man today?" he asked as he wrote up her chart.

"No," she muttered. "He charmed me out of it."

"Hmph."

"How'd you know I wasn't asleep?" she asked.

"When? Now?" he asked mildly as he adjusted her drip. "You were too quiet."

"I snore?" she huffed.

He gave her a vague shrug, reaching for a cigarette from his pocket as he turned to go.

Her deepest presidential tone made him pause by the door. "He made you say that, didn't he?"

He glanced at her over his shoulder. "He who? And say what?"

He was still chuckling at the outraged glare she'd pinned him with when Ishay came on duty an hour later.

The End


End file.
